Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This
by Mitts
Summary: Cloud is hurt during a battle. But how come he ends up hurting even more, after he's been rescued? YAOI.


This story is my gift for Sebby-Chan, my new baby sister. I hope you are feeling a little better now Sebby.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sweet Dreams are Made of This.

The crashing and roaring of man and machine filled the smoke laden air all around the battlefield. In the darkness of the night, the bright flashes of the laser guns as they were fired lit up the surrounding area, the shrill cry of the aimed for target slicing through the nerves of the toughest soldier, each knowing that theirs might very easily be the next voice to cry out with their last dying breath.

Cadet Cloud Strife, his ears ringing with the sounds of war, and his eyes stinging with the acrid smoke and smog, inched his way forward and tried to fix his sights on a target. It was getting harder and harder to differentiate between who was friend and who was foe.

Being only a minor member of the troop sent out on this mission he, like many of the others, had been the ones selected to go into battle first. Despite all his hard and rigorous training, the blond had ended up exactly as his mother had predicted he would, battle fodder.

He was a pawn, a nothing.

Just one of many faceless young men to be tossed to the enemy as bait, in an attempt to draw them out of hiding, so that the more elite members of Shin-Ra's army could finish off the battle and reap the rewards and the acclaim to glory.

A laser shot close to his left ear had the cadet ducking down instinctively to his knees, his head buried ineffectively in the crooks of his arms.

He felt warmth trickle down the side of his face, and he slowly raised a hand to his cheek, staring at the dark blood that coated his fingers. He felt no pain, yet. His adrenalin was too high.

Tentatively, he touched the side of his face again, checking with a madly beating heart to ensure that his ear was still intact, breathing an audible sigh of relief at finding it was.

Just a graze.

He'd been lucky, he thought. So far. Many of the men he had charged ahead with were already lying on the floor behind him, their bodies still and lifeless.

Cloud wondered how many more steps forward he had left to take in this life, before the dreaded laser guns found their target, and put a stop to his forward procession, and he too joined his fellow comrades in death.

A slight movement in amongst the swirling mist had the nervous cadet pulling up his weapon automatically and firing.

Kill, or be killed.

That one message had been drummed into him since his arrival. Every single day during training, the officer in charge would yell that one sentence out over and over again.

Kill, or be killed.

Cadet Strife didn't want to be killed. He had too much to live for. He wanted to become an officer. He wanted to make his widowed mother proud of her only son. And he wanted to justify to her his running away from home and leaving her alone. He wanted to live, to return to her a hero.

Unfortunately, in order to do that, he had to live past his first battle.

As his finger hit the trigger, and his deadly laser light split the air pluming straight into the belly of one of the enemy sneaking up on him, the boy saw the opened eyes and mouth of the man, the surprise on his face evident to see.

Strife's instinctive reactions had just saved his life. Even he had been surprised at the accuracy and the swiftness of the shot he had just fired. The chances of a direct hit, in the dark, and disorientated, had been extremely slim.

The man that the cadet had shot was writhing on the floor in agony, his guts spilling out, his voice calling piteously, a hand reaching towards the boy beseechingly.

Guilt washed over Cloud like a blanket of filth, coating him and making him regret firing his weapon. That could so easily have been him there, hurt and fatally wounded on the ground. He wondered what it was the man was calling out for so desperately in his strange tongue. He wondered what _his_ last words would be.

And in a flash he knew.

His mother. The dying man was calling out for his mother.

Lowering his weapon, Cloud went to the man, intent on offering what little comfort he could, before the man passed away.

Scrambling forward, he reached the fallen enemy and opened his mouth to offer condolences.

Instead, he cried out in pain and shock as the man used his last breath to raise his arm back, and propel a dagger straight through Cloud's body armour. The drug that the blade had been coated with began to work immediately, and as the assailant fell dead to the floor, Cloud felt the poison begin to affect his body, his arms and legs stiffing, his organs slowly shutting down.

Unable to call out for help, he moved his head around, and before his eyes closed the last thing he saw was the tall silhouette of the famed General Sephiroth illuminated in the background, his long duster coat and equally long silver hair trailing and billowing around him.

Sephiroth witnessed the attack on Cadet Strife, and his heart skipped a beat.

Hadn't he told the boy to keep his head down? Hadn't he warned him not to charge foolhardily ahead?Only this morning, as they had lain in one another's arms after a heady night of passion, he had tried to explain the perils and pitfalls of being a foot soldier to the spiky haired, spunky blond. Now, seeing him fall in battle, Sephiroth knew he had to break his own rules of conduct, and go and try to rescue his fallen lover.

Forging ahead with reckless abandon, he brushed aside the urgent pulling at his arm, as his second in command tried to make him listen to reason.

"Seph, come on! You know the rules. You should do. You made them. You don't just dive in there head first. Let the Sweepers do their job first."

"Cloud's fallen," Sephiroth replied simply, shaking free of the restraining hand that held him still.

Zack's arm fell to his side.

"Oh," was all he said. The dark haired soldier looked out into the battlefield, his heart sinking. If the boy had fallen……

"Seph?"

"I'm going after him Zack. Don't try to stop me."

"I wouldn't even dare try," Zack replied, but he was talking to empty air. Sephiroth was already moving at speed towards his little cadet. Masamune was drawn and was being swung freely from left to right, dissecting and dismembering any and all bodies that dared to stand in the way of his chosen path.

Sephiroths mind was set on reaching his stricken loved one and nothing, nor nobody, would stop him.

Finally, his blade and his clothes covered in dripping enemy blood, the general reached Cloud. The boy had rolled over onto his side, his legs automatically curling up into the foetal position as the painful poison within his body continued its lethal rampage through his system.

Taking the cadets face gently in his hands, Sephiroth tried to whisper words of love and encouragement to his lover. But the boy had his beautiful blue eyes tight shut, his pretty pink lips clammed tight as he battled silently against the agonizing searing pain that felt as if his insides were melting.

Sephiroth picked the boy up into his strong, powerful arms in one swoop, holding the trembling tiny body tightly and protectively to his chest. Once he knew that Cloud was secure in his embrace, he began racing back through the mist and the smoke artfully, dodging the laser shots and daggers that were now aimed on making him their target.

Cloud murmured and mumbled within his arms, his head lolling limply.

"Ssh my love," Sephiroth cooed tenderly, still running, still holding on to his prize tightly. "I'll soon have you well again. And to celebrate, we'll make love again all night, just like we did last night. Do you remember how we undressed each other, how we rubbed our hands over every single inch of our bodies? Do you remember how I kissed you all over, and how I sucked you dry? Would you like that again my love? I know you enjoyed it, your cries of ecstasy must surely have been heard by the entire camp. You are very vocal my love, when you climax. And I made you cry out a lot, didn't I? How many times did I make you come for me Cloud? Four? Five? More? I'll double that when you're well again, I swear to you. I'll make you feel so good that you'll forget you were ever in this much pain. Hang in there for me Cadet. Hold on. Help is coming….."

The last part of Sephiroths passionate speech had been uttered with urgency, his voice becoming hard and brash, as if he feared showing too much emotion would break him.

"Medic, here's one of ours. Tend to him. Every single one that can be saved is another that can be sent back in again."

Cloud felt himself being passed to someone else, and he reacted instinctively again, a small cry escaping his throat as his eyes flew open and his hand reached out towards Sephiroths lips, the very same lips that had kissed him, caressed him, and brought him so much pleasure and joy.

With a jerk of his head, the general pulled his face back away from the touching, groping fingers of the boy, a look of startled annoyance on his chiselled features.

"What is wrong with you, boy?" he snapped, staring down at the cadet with a quizzical look as he handed the blond soldier over to the waiting doctor.

"He's hallucinating," the doctor remarked, a pen light shining brightly into the cadet's diluted pupils. "The drug that the Exmerites coat their daggers with causes the victims to actually see, hear and feel their innermost thoughts as if they were really happening. Obviously, this boy's dreams must include you quite a lot one would think, to provoke such a response."

The general huffed before turning away and going across to Zack.

"What was that all about?" his dark haired second asked.

"Some silly little cadet is apparently having dreams about me," Sephiroth answered offhandedly.

"Another one?" Zack replied, a smile on his lips. "That would make him what….one of hundreds?"

"Try one of thousands," Sephiroth smirked.

Without another word, or even a single look back at the stricken cadet, both men charged off back into battle again, killing any enemy they encountered, and rescuing their own wounded.

Lying on the simple plastic groundsheet, the newly injected serum eradicating the poison from his body, Cadet Cloud Strife let the tears slide down his cheeks unheeded. He didn't know if he were crying with relief at being saved from the jaws of death, or if he were crying because he would have much rather died believing in his dream that the great elusive general, who didn't even know his name, loved him.


End file.
